


Tale of the Body-snatcher

by FancyMeetingYouHere



Category: GOT7
Genre: Crack, Established Markson, M/M, Mark has a power, au but not really, funny stuff, idol-life with a twist, some YugBam in here as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24714097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyMeetingYouHere/pseuds/FancyMeetingYouHere
Summary: 'No one ever warned Jackson of soul-switching shenanigans when they gave him idol-life 101 lessons.'Or.Waking up next to Mark no longer means waking up next to Mark. At least, not always. Luckily GOT7 can keep a level head about these things ... not.
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Comments: 16
Kudos: 85





	Tale of the Body-snatcher

Mornings are some of Jackson’s favorite times. They’re calm and quiet, especially in the spring when the sun rises around seven and the birdcalls outside filter in along with soft light around his heavy drapes. The temperature in his room is perfectly neutral for a light blanket which leaves him warm without being sweaty. All in all, there’s nothing much better than waking up with pleasant thoughts and a smile lingering on his face.

Also, the first thing he sees is Mark’s bedhead inches away from his own, the older still curled up in sleep under his own blanket and expression slack and innocent. Jackson grins with a swooping of his heart.

Oh yes, mornings are the best.

As Mark keeps snoozing next to him, Jackson carefully stretches under the covers, reaching his arms up and loving the pull on his muscles. It takes effort to keep in his groan, but Mark needs his rest. These past few days have been nothing but hectic with interviews, shows and promoting, which means the next two days of relative peace will be as stress-free as Jackson can make them.

“Morning, Markie,” he whispers under his breath, once again drinking in the sight of Mark’s dark-blonde hair sticking up and his face buried in the pillow. It pulls on his heartstrings before his lips melt into a smile. How is this ever _not_ going to make him feel like he won the lottery?

The thought is stored as he quietly slips out of the bed. He’ll have plenty of time to fawn over it when his stomach _isn’t_ growling for food. First things first. He fishes a clean shirt out of the closet and pads out to the kitchen in his boxers, the apartment nowhere near cold. A simple glass of water and some yoghurt with fruit will do for now, Mark’s cereal coming out of the cupboard as an afterthought as Jackson hums a nonsense tune to himself.

A shout from the bedroom shatters the peace, Jackson dropping the bowl in his hands and adding to the yelling as it shatters on the kitchen floor.

“What the fuck!” Mark shouts. In English.

The annoyance at the bowl lying strewn over the tiles seeps away at the genuine fear he hears in Mark’s voice. “Mark!” he yells, cautiously stepping around the mess and into the hallway, then he falls into a quick trot to the bedroom. “Mark! Are you ok-”

He’s cut short by another scream the moment he walks into the bedroom. Mark is up and out of bed, limbs shaking as he holds his blanket wrapped around his torso. Jackson blinks, then cocks a brow. Since when is Mark prudish?

“What are you-” Jackson starts with the first hint of ‘is this a prank?’, only to be cut off again by what appears to be one epically freaked out Mark Tuan. The man is sporting giant eyes and pale skin.

“Jackson-hyung?” he gasps. Mark’s eyes fly over him, then back to himself, before finally settling on Jackson again. The older’s skin becomes a shade paler.

“Yea-” it sinks in and Jackson snorts. “ _Hyung?”_

Mark keeps gaping, clutching the blanket tighter around himself. “Where am I?” he squeaks, legitimately _squeaks._ “What am I doing here? What are _you_ doing here? Why am I naked!” He cuts off the ranting questions, burying a hand in his hair. “Why do I sound like this!?”

The only thing Jackson can truly understand is that it’s too early for this. “Did you have a nightmare?” he wonders, feeling both exasperated and worried.

“I am _having_ a nightmare!” Mark yells, high-pitched. The blanket threatens to slide down his chest with the force of it and the other goes red, quickly yanking it back up again like a shield. He looks lost as his eyes flit all over, an accusation over-riding the confusion from before. “Why on earth am I waking up in _your bed?”_

Now Jackson’s jaw drops, Mark’s disgust clear on his face as the older shuffles a step backwards.

“Because we’re dating!” he yells back, hurt coating his words. “Mark, what are you doing?!”

The eye-roll that earns him looks painful. “Sure,” Mark drawls, “I’m _Mark.”_ His glare becomes pointed, though his hands still tremble where he holds the blanket. “This is by far your worst joke. _Ever._ Where are the others?” He cranes his head around. “Are they hiding around the corner? Is Mark-hyung filming this? Is _Yugyeom_ filming this?”

Before Jackson can get a dumbfounded word in, Mark yells into the apartment, voice high with disbelief. “Come out, guys! Joke’s over! And can someone get me my damn _clothes!”_ He stomps the ground, face gaining more notes of confusion. “Why do I _sound_ like that!?”

His boyfriend (of two _fucking_ years! What does he mean, why am I waking up in your bed!?) looks a terrifying combination of furious and deranged. It causes Jackson to do the first action that comes to mind, which is put up his hands and approach this like Mark is likely to fling himself dramatically out of the fifth-floor window.

“It’s okay,” Jackson says calmly, masking the pounding of his heart remarkably well. “You’re okay, Mark. You’re safe. I’m just going to grab my phone and call some help.”

Mark scrunches his nose, emotions bleeding across his features like he suddenly left the tap running. With a snort the man backs away again. “Will you stop calling me that!”

Two steps and Jackson has his phone, finger shaking as he scrolls to find Jaebeom’s number. Mark is having a waking dream or some sort of hallucination. Possibly even a mental break due to stress. “It’s okay,” he repeats as he keeps an eye on his nearly skittish boyfriend. “I’m sorry.” He catches Mark eye the now empty doorway and tries to calm the other down. “What do I call you, then?”

The look that earns him spells ‘you’re an idiot’ in capital letters, Mark’s eyebrows disappearing into his mussed hair. “By my _name,_ ” the other stresses as if that clears things up. It’s quiet for one beat and Mark rolls his eyes viciously once more. “BamBam!” he yells into Jackson’s once again agape face. “Or Kunpimook if that’s the way you want to play this.”

The floor shatters under his feet and he’s lost for footholds. The phone suddenly insignificant in his hands as he huffs out a painfully airy laugh. “…what?”

Their staring match of ‘I hate you’ and ‘oh my goodness he needs a hospital’ is broken by the phone in Jackson’s hand buzzing into the loud silence. It makes him jump, eyes a beat too late in snapping down to look at the screen.

BamBam is calling him. He glances up again and into Mark’s utterly serious expression, which, now that he’s paying attention, is _nothing_ like the man usually looks. It reminds him of-

He snaps his eyes down again, shakily sliding the horn to the right and answering the call with a cracking voice. “Hello?”

“Oh thank goodness,” BamBam sighs into his ear. “Ga- Uhm, Jackson. Have I- … uh, has _Mark_ woken up yet?”

The world spins once and he feels like laughing. A single chuckle makes it out as he stares at Mark-pretending-to-be-BamBam while he drags in air to answer BamBam-pretending-to-be-Mark. “This is your worst joke as of yet,” he croaks. “What? Did you two lose rock-paper-scissors or something? Who even came _up_ with this?!”

Mark looks affronted and lets out a weird noise that sounds _exactly_ like BamBam does when the younger is confused. He must admit, they’ve put effort into this.

“I’ll deal with you later,” he says sternly into the phone, but his dramatic hanging-up is thwarted by a tinny shout. _In Mandarin._

“Gaga, please, don’t hang up! This is important!”

He glares at Mark. “Did you teach him that?”

“NO!” They both yell at the same time.

Mark gives him a ‘duh’ look, bristling. “My Mandarin sucks, hyung, you know that! Is that Mark-hyung? Is this still you messing with me?”

“You’re the ones messing with me!” he bites both at Mark and into the phone. “It’s barely eight, I do _not_ appreciate this!”

“And I don’t appreciate not waking up in my own bed!” Mark yells back, visibly gearing up for a tangent. “How did you even get me here!?” He gasps, hand flying over his heart. “Did you _drug me?”_

Which, _what!_

And then, just because today isn’t weird enough yet, Mark throws one arm into the air and glares at the ceiling, launching into the promised tangent _in perfect Thai._ Or at least, Jackson thinks it is. It sounds like it, but he’s not the most practiced ear and he carefully speaks into the phone with a fearful eye on his boyfriend who’s clearly losing some screws and bolts in the upstairs department.

“BamBam?” he just about whispers. “Did you teach Mark Thai?”

There’s a sigh before BamBam’s voice comes through with a very familiar strength and calmness to it. “No, Jackson. BamBam didn’t teach me Thai and I didn’t teach him Mandarin. _I’m_ still learning Mandarin, for that matter. But, it’s just-” he groans. “I know this all looks really strange, but I’m not really me right now. I mean, _Mark-_ crap. Look. You’re with BamBam right now, and I’m in BamBam’s body. We switched. … You with me so far?”

Jackson thinks having his jaw somewhere on the floor as his boyfriend finally finishes an angry Thai rant in a Roman styled dress is honestly the best reaction he can have to this madness. “Am I _with you?”_ he chokes. “Is that supposed to be funny? BamBam, what the hell?!”

Mark reacts to that, turning an impressive pouty glare on him as he crosses his arms over his stupid blanket dress. As if Jackson hasn’t seen every inch of Mark ten times over.

“Ugh!” BamBam groans frustrated through the phone, then throws out rushed. “Ask me something. Ask me something only I- only _Mark_ would know.”

“You two need to _stop-”_ he hisses only for BamBam to interrupt him, the little brat.

“Just ask!” he snaps.

“Fine!” Jackson snaps back, sending Mark a laser-glare of his own. “How many moles do I have on my ass?”

It makes Mark flush and flounder, the actions eerily well-copied from how BamBam would do it. An unimpressed silence comes from the phone and he gears up to start an impressive lecture about respect and appropriate timing until BamBam deadpans. “Five, you egomaniac. And three are in a cute little cluster at the top of your left cheek.”

Without warning, Jackson’s face burns like the sun as he gapes at Mark. “You fucking _told him that!”_ he squawks indignantly.

Mark yells something in Thai that’s probably a curse-word while BamBam shouts into the phone.

“Jackson, that’s _BamBam!_ ” But the rest of the comment is lost when Mark pins Jackson down with wide eyes.

“I don’t know what you two are playing at, or what it has to do with your ass, and frankly I don’t _ever_ want to know! But I’m leaving!” He glances down at the blanket, then glares again. “I’m getting dressed, and then I’m leaving!”

“Jackson, _please,”_ BamBam sighs into the phone. “Can you just keep him there until I can come over and explain-”

Once again, the morning dissolves into madness and screaming as Mark scans the room and yanks open the giant closet some three steps away. With an earth-shattering sound the man jumps away from the door, still clutching his blanket like it’s a lifeline.

“What happened!?” BamBam demands over the phone at the same time as Jackson yells with his frustration exploding into the air around him.

“Cut it the fuck out!”

“I’m not me,” Mark whispers, eyes glued to the mirror on the inside of the door and horror dawning on his face. His eyes shoot to Jackson. “Why am I seeing Mark-hyung!” As an afterthought, because Jackson’s control and understanding has nosedived out of the window practically the second he woke up, Mark finally drops the blanket only to scream again as he stares fearfully at his arms and torso.

“This is not mine!” he yells. His arms stretch far from his body as if they can be detached. “Where are my tattoos?! Why do I have Mark-hyung’s tattoos?!”

The room has descended into chaos and Jackson does what he always does. He finds Mark.

“Mark, what is going on!” he shouts into the phone. Then he blinks, taking the phone away from his ear and staring at it in mounting trepidation because he just _said that into the phone._

The problem being that the phone is also answering, in a very Mark-like calmness.

After another second of staring and blocking out Mark’s random twisting and turning in his peripheral as the man laments every single tattoo he can find, Jackson very carefully puts the phone back to his ear. He gulps.

“Mark?” he whispers.

There’s silence for a beat, then a controlled voice. “Jackson, please. Calm. Down. I just need you to take care of BamBam until I can get there, okay? I promise, this isn’t forever. More like twenty-four hours or so. We’ll switch back and everything will be fine, but BamBam is probably going to be freaking out for some time and I need someone to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid or frankly wildly embarrassing while the rest of the world thinks he’s me.”

The words click and fall and Jackson swallows something that feels like a ball of electricity. “Holy fuck,” he stammers. “You’re really Mark.”

“Yes,” BamBam sighs. “Just wait until I get there, _please.”_

Jackson nods.

“…Jackson?”

He jumps and shouts yes, then listens to the dial tone for far too long for all of this to be a dream.

So.

Okay.

No one ever warned him of soul-switching shenanigans when they gave him idol-life 101 lessons.

Feeling like he might be utterly insane and keeping a firm eye on the reaction of his maybe-not-boyfriend, Jackson shuffles closer as he drops the phone on the bed.

“BamBam?” he tries with an urge to laugh hysterically.

Mark snaps his eyes to him, still holding his arms out like they’re diseased. “Yes!” he shouts. “Where is my body! Why am I …!?” He flaps his hands with the clear desire to throw them away.

Not even Jinyoung can act this convincingly, and this time Jackson does let out a chuckle. “Oh fuck.”

“I know!” BamBam-Mark shouts, ending in a whine. “Where are my _legs!?”_

All Jackson can do to that is laugh.

Two hours later and GOT7 is pressed together in Jackson’s living room, varying levels of shock and disbelief coming from the four occupying the couch. Mark-BamBam is standing in front of the TV while Jackson opted for dragging a chair over and sitting on the right side of the couch. BamBam-Mark is pouting within an inch of his life at Jackson’s feet, the familiar back leaning into Jackson’s legs though the hunched shoulders and crossed arms spell a whole new mood.

After Mark is done talking, the silence falls thick and foreboding until Yugyeom pipes up with a confused look. “Does that mean I have to call you hyung?”

With that the floodgates are opened, Youngjae falling back with half a laugh and a curse while Jinyoung frowns at the floor and worries with a muttered ‘this could become problematic’ as Jaebeom repeats ‘twenty-four hours?’ in a high-pitched voice.

Mark sighs and rolls his eyes, making BamBam look a little more like normal-BamBam until his face once again settles into the neutral gaze of Mark. It’s so _weird_.

“Yes,” Mark sighs. “No more than twenty-four hours, maybe even less.”

Jaebeom nods as Jinyoung speaks up.

“But this could happen again? With anyone?”

Mark once again sighs. “Only with people I have a strong emotional connection with, but yes. It could happen again.” He winces and rubs his forehead in typical Mark-fashion. “I usually have a better control of this, but I guess stress and exhaustion still messes with my powers.”

“Powers?” Youngjae giggles. “Right. That’s totally normal.”

Jackson can’t help the slight glare. “Apparently it is.”

“Guys,” Mark cuts in. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I am. But maybe wait until we’ve switched back before you start anything?”

“I’m not, I’m not,” Youngjae quickly defuses with an apologetic glance. “This is just a lot to wrap my head around.”

That gets a low snort from the floor, BamBam turning still with his arms crossed and shoulders hunched. He’s contorting Mark’s body into the epitome of teenage stubbornness and Jackson’s mainly confused about how adorable the older looks right now … even though it’s not _really_ Mark … whatever.

“ _You’re_ having difficulty?” BamBam whines. “Mark-hyung stole my body! While I was _sleeping.”_

“He didn’t do it on purpose,” Yugyeom pipes up.

With a sharp nudge of his legs, Jackson shuts up whatever snarky comment BamBam was preparing and gives the younger boy an amused glare. “You’ll get your legs back in no time.”

“His legs?” Mark blinks, looking down. Jinyoung muffles a laugh on the couch and Jaebeom coughs suspiciously while Yugyeom and Youngjae have no qualms cackling in the early morning. It’s the most normal they’ll ever get.

“I know that,” BamBam feels a need to add, turning puppy-eyes on all of them that have something in Jackson’s heart twisting. He sends Mark a sneaky grin which gets him an eyeroll.

“But none of you understand my level of trauma here,” says BamBam as he shudders in place. “I woke up _naked_ in Jackson-hyung’s _bed._ It was horrifying!”

Mark shrugs as Yugyeom and Youngjae go for another round of laughter. “I didn’t feel like getting dressed after-” his eyes shoot to Jackson, and despite the different face, the edge to Mark’s grin is unmistakable.

Jackson grins back. “You were pretty exhausted-”

“EEEWW!!” BamBam screeches, covering his ears, then his jaw drops and his eyes bulge. “Is that why my ass is so- wait, _your_ ass is-” His face scrunches like he ate a lemon and Mark dissolves into giggles, Jackson unable to fight the laughter in his own chest any longer. It’s a good release after their hectic morning, though BamBam gains a grumpy layer where he sits on the floor, red-faced. “Someone owes me _something_ for dealing with this.”

“This _is_ faintly disturbing,” Jaebeom calms the younger soul down even though his lips are twitching. “But there aren’t any schedules for today, so that’s a silver lining. Can you imagine BamBam having to pretend to be Mark for the public.”

BamBam’s glare tells their leader exactly what he thinks about said silver lining as everyone else grimaces in unison.

“Hey!” BamBam pouts. “I can be a decent Mark-hyung! Why aren’t you hating on the body-snatcher! He’s technically younger now.”

“Mark.” Jackson warns his boyfriend with a smile. He knows that grin, no matter if it’s BamBam’s face that’s doing it. The older gives a wink, then drops himself on Yugyeom’s lap and hugs the suddenly red maknae.

“I’ve got a better grasp at being BamBam than BamBam does,” he teases. To their wide-eyed surprise, and Jackson would be lying if he said he doesn’t let out an embarrassing squeak, Mark-BamBam turns to a flustered Yugyeom and drops a kiss on his lips.

The chain-reaction is glorious. Youngjae’s laughter becomes so loud it’s a wonder the singer is still capable of breathing while JJP sit frozen and somewhat embarrassed on the couch. Yugyeom is the color of a ripe tomato and his hands twitch, clearly unsure whether to throw the other boy/man away or yank him closer, while BamBam tears through a whole octave in one shout and does his best impression of a ghost.

And Jackson … At first, there’s the tiniest hint of jealousy, but Mark pulls away after two seconds and sends him a vulnerable look that means so much more, (I’m sorry. We’re okay. This _needed_ to be addressed) and in the end he gives a small nod. Then he shudders.

“How weird was that?” he can’t help but ask.

Mark grins, hopping off Yugyeom and leaving the poor boy to gasp for air. “Very weird,” the older admits. His eyes shift to BamBam gaping like a fish. “But worth it.”

“You can’t-! I don’t-! We’re not-!” BamBam stutters for words, maroon creeping up on Mark’s features at an alarming rate. He’s cut off by Youngjae’s breathy chuckle, the singer slouching on the couch and wiping at the tears on his cheeks.

“I wish I had that on camera,” he sighs.

BamBam glares at him.

“Okay,” Jaebeom coughs once to try and get the attention back. “Maybe dial down the antics while you’re uhm … not _you.”_ He poses carefully and with a critical eye on Mark-BamBam. The older rapper promises with a slight grin.

“Can’t say it wasn’t helpful,” Jinyoung muses as he eyes their youngest two ... or, their maknae and BamBam, the latter both fuming and hiding while in Mark’s body. It once again looks cute and the hot-but-not is making Jackson’s head hurt. Though whether it’s weirder to be physically attracted to the body housing BamBam’s soul, or to be mentally attracted to the soul inhabiting BamBam’s body is wholly up in the air.

Jaebeom sighs. “Somewhat beside the point. I think we just need to let this run its course without any other _jokes_ , and then we’ll try and figure out the rest from there.”

“What rest?” Mark frowns.

“Well,” Jaebeom glances at Jinyoung and their telepathy works it magic.

“JYP-sunbaenim,” Jinyoung bites his lip. “If this could happen again at any given time then-”

Mark stops their worries before they can bloom with a shake of his head. “He knows.”

They all blink at him.

“What?” BamBam says dumbly.

With a guilty smile, Mark scratches his neck. “He’s known since I came here. It was actually his idea to keep it hidden since I’ve got a pretty good handle on it. He didn’t want it to come between us.”

“Oh yeah, your handle is _great,”_ BamBam snarks, but his anger is short-lived and followed by a pout. “Doesn’t JYP-sunbaenim trust us by now? Don’t you?”

It obviously hits a nerve and Mark flinches, the atmosphere growing heavy as Jaebeom and Jinyoung share another look. Jackson decides to help his boyfriend out despite having a few questions of his own. “I’m sure it’s nothing to do with trust,” he corrects gently, receiving a grateful look from Mark.

“It doesn’t,” Mark affirms. “It’s just not the easiest to explain.”

Youngjae snorts. “That’s an understatement.”

“So the company knows?” Jinyoung looks at all of them before settling on Mark. “If this were to ever happen during promotions…”

Now _there’s_ a terrifying thought. They share glances of thinly veiled horror and Mark chuckles weakly.

“Yeah, that might be a bit tricky, but the company knows.” He rubs his forehead again. “I just didn’t think it would ever happen like this. I’m really sorry, guys.”

“It’s okay,” Jackson tells him without thinking. “We’ll work it out.”

“We will,” Jaebeom promises, then stretches like a lazy feline. “Right after we get some breakfast. It’s too early for this.”

They all agree, and Jackson rolls his eyes even as he gets up. “Try dealing with it at _seven_ ,” he grouches under his breath. After a beat, Youngjae speaks up.

“Yugyeom? You coming?”

Jackson only has time to turn around and see a very familiar shit-eating grin spread across BamBam’s face (though it’s missing its usual pointed teeth) before their maknae asks in high confusion.

“Was I just kissed by Mark or by BamBam?”

The room descends into laughter and embarrassed indignation once more.


End file.
